Being a person in recovery means different things to many. To me, it means I've lived a life of purpose and resilience since January of 2019. But that came at a huge cost: losing custody of my child.
Ironically, childbirth is where my substance use disorder began. At 29, I had a partner, a job, a house and had just given birth to a beautiful baby girl. What should have been the happiest time in my life turned into a battle to save it.
Following the birth, I was prescribed narcotics by my OB/GYN. What I thought was a necessary healing measure turned out to be the source of years-long, devastating consequences for me and my family.
My substance use disorder progressed very quickly. As doctors continued to prescribe me narcotics, I had no idea that I was building a tolerance and would need them just to function.
The narcotics became my sole focus in life, not my daughter. I found myself lying about my symptoms, seeking out different doctors and buying them off the streets. When I stole money to feed my habit, I became entangled in the criminal justice system -- and the challenge of navigating it with a child.
While I was sentenced to a 12-month supervised diversion program, which meant that I could continue to take care of my daughter, I wasn't offered any wraparound services, like parenting classes, employment assistance, mental health screening or family case management services. I lied on my substance abuse assessment and my parole officer didn't drug test me for the first 11 months of my sentence. So, while I could take care of my child, my substance use not only continued -- it deepened.
Ultimately, when I failed a drug test in the 12th and final month of my supervision, I was thrown back into the incarceration cycle.
At that point, I knew it was time to face the fact that my ability to care for my child was compromised. I signed custody over to her father, doing what I thought was best at the time. I carry so much guilt and shame over this moment that, at times, it is unbearable.
I finally went to treatment for the first time 17 months after my first arrest, and today I live a life I never thought possible. I've done everything I was supposed to do. I've been employed for more than five years, I sponsor women in a 12-step program, I spend countless hours volunteering, and I'm currently working on my second college degree. I'm proud of my beautiful life and while I see my daughter regularly, I still don't have her back.
My heart aches every day for her.
I believe in my bones if I were drug tested in the first month of my 12-month sentence, I could've accessed treatment a lot sooner and I would still have custody of my daughter today.
It should never have taken 17 months to detect my substance use disorder, let alone to get treatment for it. There were so many red flags for my probation officer. At one point, I urinated in their office chair because I was so high. They still sent me home.
Having a parent who is incarcerated has devastating, far-reaching effects on both a child's and parent's health and mental health. Despite that, no one offered me or my daughter a lifeline -- only consequences.
The justice system failed us. If the Kentucky legislature is truly as pro-family as they say they are, they'll make changes that give caregivers entangled in the justice system, like me, the services needed to keep families together.
Jessica Ashby is a member of "Young People in Recovery" and "Morgan's Mission." She is committed to fighting the war against addiction among youth. She speaks to advocacy groups and teaches a class at a treatment center, using her own life story of recovery to inspire and educate others.